Moony's Musings
by trep092
Summary: Have you ever wondered what Lupin was thinking throughout the series? Well read and find out. Will explain everything from his past, where he was and what he was doing during the blanks in the books, and his romance with Tonks. Please review.
1. Chapter 1

Moony's Musings

By: Trep092

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter the series would never have ended. And since there aren't any new books, I obviously don't own it However much I'd love to.

*** September 1, 1993 (present) ***

Remus Lupin strolled wearily into King's Cross Station. He was clad in his Muggle best; a faded pair of jeans patched in several places, and a threadbare black jacket buttoned up against the chill in the September air.

Even though it had been fifteen years since he had last set foot in this station at the start of his final year at Hogwarts School, it only felt like yesterday. In fact, he could remember the first time he had ever set foot in King's Cross, well over twenty years prior, so vividly that for a moment he thought he was that shy little boy again, scared out of his mind at the idea of going to a place where people could easily find out his deepest secret and hate and ostracize him for it. Just as all those who had known him before the attack had.

*** September 1, twenty-two years prior ***

Remus was terrified. His hands were slick with sweat where they gripped the handle of the trolley in front of him baring his bulky school trunk. His wide brown eyes darted around the packed station, taking in the hoards of Muggles boarding and exiting the many trains. He picked out other Hogwarts students dispersed throughout the crowd by their similar luggage. Idly he wondered whether any of them were First Years, and if they were quite as nervous as he was. He doubted it.

"The entrance is this way Son." His Father's strong hand on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts. His pale face flamed red as he realized that he had stood stock still staring at the crowd for quite a while.

He bolstered his courage and propelled his trolley after his parents who were striding confidently towards a barrier between platforms nine and ten. Copying his Father's casual stance, he leaned against the barrier and a second later found himself on a platform teaming with witches and wizards who were bidding their children, who were saying hello to friends and clambering onto the scarlet steam engine, goodbye.

As Remus struggled to lift his trunk off the trolley his Father's reassuring tones broke once again into his concentration, "Son let me help you with that, your Mother wants a word." His Father's large capable hands took the handle from his grip and hoisted the trunk up into the train.

Turning to his Mother Remus took in her expression and felt some of his anxiousness fade away. He knew that she loved him no matter what happened, and with that knowledge the tight knot in his stomach loosened fractionally. She took his hand and led him behind a pillar where they were afforded a semblance of privacy.

She cupped his chin in her soft hand and lifted his face so he was looking into her eyes and not at the ground. "Remus you know that your Father and I love you. We are extremely proud of you, and we know that you will accomplish much in your life. Know that no matter what anybody says or does, you are a good person with a brilliant brain and a caring heart. You will do amazing, trust me. A Mother knows these things."

He bit his lip and lowered his eyes to the scuffed tiles under foot. "What if people find out?" he asked in such a small voice that his Mother almost didn't catch what he said.

"Nobody will find out," she reassured him, "Professor Dumbledore has made sure of that."

"What if nobody likes me?"

"Oh honey," she said wrapping her arms tightly around him, "of course people will like you. How could they not?"

Leaning into his Mother's warm embrace, breathing in her flowery perfume he almost believed her … almost.

"Jane, Remus it's time." At his Father's words, Remus felt his heart lurch. This was it. He had been waiting as long as he could remember for this moment, not expecting it to come, and it had finally arrived.

As he walked with his parent's towards the train he realized this was his last chance to back out. If he continued, he'd have the chance to learn amazing things, to be with children his own age who didn't know anything about him and his past. But there was also the chance that someone could discover his secret and then he would be an outcast not only in his extended family but in the wider Wizarding World as well. If he backed out now he could go back home where he was lonely but at least he was safe with his loving parents and his books.

Remembering his Mother's words he lifted his chin fractionally and squared his shoulders. He would make his parents proud. He would make sure that their sacrifices over the past three years hadn't been in vain. They had never given up on him even when his situation had cost them their relatives' and friends' support. Now that they had succeeded in getting him accepted at Hogwarts he wasn't about to turn down the opportunity, no matter how much he wanted to.

As he reached the train's door, he turned to his parents. Their expressions were mirror images of love and pride. His Father who was a tall powerful man bent down and gave him a strong hug. He whispered in Remus's ear, "Don't ever doubt yourself Son. You're Mother and I have worked hard these last few years because we know that you are someone special who will go far in life. Just be yourself, that's all anybody can ask of you."

Having been released from the shelter of his Father's arms, Remus turned to his Mother. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. Throwing his arms around her neck he pleaded, "Mom don't cry because of me." He dug deep inside his heart and found a wavering spark of courage. "I'll be fine."

"I know Son," she sniffed, "these are happy tears."

The mournful sound of the train's whistle broke them apart.

"Hurry Son, have a good term."

His parent's words followed him onto the train which was slowly beginning to move. He hurried to the nearest window and leaned out. "Bye Mom and Dad, I'll miss you."

"We'll miss you too, love you Remus."

As the train picked up speed and his brown hair whipped in the wind, he could just barely hear his Mother's words. "Love you too!" he shouted as the train turned a corner and the small figures of his parents were lost from sight.

Wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, he turned to face the corridor. His parent's words had helped to soothe the roiling mass of nerves in his stomach. Just as they always had.

His parent's had always supported him. During the terrifying, pain filled days after the attack they had been beside him, soothing him and promising everything would be all right. When they had heard his prognosis, they were shocked and dismayed, but they instantly went to bat for him. They searched for a cure obsessively, and when none was found they were determined to make his life as normal as possible. They lobbied the headmaster of Hogwarts Armando Dippet, and the Ministry of Magic to allow him to attend Hogwarts, but were denied time after time.

Finally, his strong willed father was nearing defeat. In desperation, he wrote a daring article in the Daily Profet, for which he was a weekly columnist, about the rights of persons with disabilities in the wizarding world and how they compared with those of people in the muggle world.

The newly appointed headmaster of Hogwarts Albus Dumbledore had showed up at their house a few days after the article had been published and had offered Remus a place at Hogwarts. He had outlined a plan to protect Remus and the other students, and was positive that he could have a carefree time at school.

His parents had been ecstatic, but he had greeted the news with trepidation. He had gone his entire life with the entire wizarding world telling him that he couldn't get an education or any sort of employment. And now, here was this man saying that he could go to school and nobody would find out about his differences. He didn't know what to think.

Now he was here, aboard the school train, speeding off to the place which held his greatest fears, and yet, also his greatest hopes.

*** September 1, 1993 (present) ***

Twenty-two years later, he could smile at his younger self. He hadn't known then but he was beginning the best years of his life. He would meet his three best friends, and would be a part of the popular crowd for the first time in his life.

Now he was beginning a new chapter in his life. He was coming back to Hogwarts, not as a student, but as a teacher.

A week earlier, when he was yet again at a low point of his life, Albus Dumbledore had shown up at his door and had yet again saved him. He had offered him the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Having been unemployed for longer than he could remember, he had leapt at the opportunity for work and companionship.

So Yet again he was at this station on the brink of a new adventure, but this time he was not afraid.

He had grown much in the last two decades. Especially during the time in which he was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and when he had lost all of his best friends in a few days of each other. Three to death's embrace, and one had been revealed as a traitor and murderer and had been sent to the feared prison of Azkaban.

He was alone in the world, but he was much stronger. He knew that he could and would survive.

Casually leaning against the barrier between platforms nine and ten, he stepped forward and didn't look back.


	2. Chapter 2

Moony's Musings

Chapter 2

By Trep092

Disclaimer: A recent look at my bank account reveals I sadly don't have millions, so I obviously don't own Harry Potter.

I'd like to thank my Beta Erik's Song for all of her assistance. Without her this fic would still be gathering dust on my hard drive.

A/N: For the purposes of this narrative Yaxley is at Hogwarts the same time as Remus, James and the lot. He's in the fifth year. Not much is told about him in cannon, so he suited my plans perfectly. . Also, Lucius Malfoy is at Hogwarts in his seventh year during the time of Remus's first year which, because of his birth date in 1954, is cannon.

*** September 1, 1993 (present) ***

He had arrived at King's Cross Station two hours early so that he could find an out of the way compartment on the Hogwarts Express. Thus the platform that was usually packed on September first was bare of clamouring students.

As he crossed the platform, he felt that the silence was oddly unsettling. Being such a dramatically different scene than it usually was, he felt as though he was in some sort of twisted dream.

Quickening his pace, he boarded the scarlet train and headed towards the rear. The compartments he passed were empty, their doors open and waiting. They stared accusingly at him, saying they had already served their purpose ferrying him back and forth to school for 7 years.

It wasn't standard for teachers to ride the Hogwarts Express to the school, but Dumbledore believed that dementors might make an appearance, and he wanted someone he could trust on scene in case something went wrong.

"Someone he could trust." His heart swelled with pride just thinking about those four simple words.

Dumbledore had always been a hero figure to him. He had granted him the chance to have an education with his peers despite his disability. He had hidden Remus's true nature from students and staff so that he could pretend to be a normal care-free student. He had trusted him enough to make him a prefect in his fifth year despite the fact that he was a member of the Marauders. He had shown faith in him when he allowed him to become part of the Order of the Phoenix straight out of Hogwarts. And now he was trusting him to teach Hogwarts students, a task he knew Dumbledore didn't delegate to just anyone.

The enormity of this trust staggered him. Nobody, upon learning of his differences, would trust him to come within a mile of them, but Dumbledore had trusted him, and was trusting him to be an influence on young witches and wizards. He knew what parents would think if they knew their children were being taught by a werewolf, but Dumbledore knew these fears,-while not being groundless-were usually blown out of proportion.

He honestly wouldn't have taken the job, fearing what his werewolf form could do to hundreds of children. He had decided that using the Shrieking Shack again was unwise on account of what had happened when Sirius had lured Snape there in their fifth year. If James hadn't pulled Snape back, Remus shuddered to think what would have happened.

What had changed his mind was Dumbledore telling him that Snape had so kindly agreed to mix the highly complicated Wolf's Bane potion for him. This potion would help him retain his human mind when he transformed, allowing him to be a harmless wolf.

In the past he hadn't been able to find anybody to brew the Wolf's Bane potion for him, owing to its finicky nature, but Snape was undoubtedly a master of his craft, and he trusted him to make it properly.

Deciding the last compartment on the train was the one most likely to remain student-free, he heaved his shabby brief case into the luggage rack and sat down near the window. It was so strange to be here, heading back to Hogwarts. Never could he have imagined it, not even in his wildest dreams.

Teaching was something he'd never contemplated doing. He loved knowledge, and he loved sharing it. But being a teacher was something that he thought he just couldn't do. There were so many things he just couldn't do. His parents had always told him that he could do anything he set his mind to.

He let out an uncharacteristically dark chuckle. How very wrong they were.

Certainly people were willing to employ him, at first. Once he disappeared for several days a month, they would get annoyed and suspicious. There were a lot more people willing to work that would be at their job full time, so eventually he was let go. At the low times in his life he had even worked Muggle jobs just to get enough money to put food in his belly.

He'd been on the brink of one of those low times when Dumbledore had shown up. Dumbledore, as Rubeus Hagrid was fond of saying, was a great man.

Several shouts outside the window heralded the arrival of students on the platform. Peering out through the glass he saw a group of rowdy boys saying hello to each other and catching up on summer news. They looked so young to him, making him feel ancient at thirty-three.

Sighing, he turned his face away from the window. His most recent transformation had left him bone weary. He decided he could do with a cat nap before the train left the station.

Settling down more comfortably in the hard seat, he leaned his head against the cool window. Closing his eyes, he recalled his first journey to Hogwarts.

*** September 1, twenty-two years prior ***

Turning away from the window through which he had seen the last glimpse of his parents, he faced the corridor. He now had the daunting task of dragging his heavy trunk until he found a free compartment, which, by the looks of it, would be near the rear of the train.

Hefting the end of his trunk, he set off, dragging it behind him. He was by no means a weak boy, but his most recent transformation had left him utterly exhausted. Thus, he barely made it ten metres down the corridor before he had to take a breather.

Dropping the end of the trunk with a thud, he leaned against the wall trying to catch his breath.

"Need help with that?"

The sudden question made him jump. Spinning around he saw two dark haired boys smiling at him.

"We just saw you having some issues with your trunk, do you need any help?"

"Sure," he said quietly.

As the boys were still standing there with polite looks of questioning on their faces, he realized that they must not have heard him.

Digging inside him for that wayward spark of courage, he straightened his slumped shoulders and said more loudly, "Yes thank you." Before that spark dwindled away again he added with a self-deprecating smile, "I doubt I'd be able to drag it to a compartment before we reached Hogwarts."

With a laugh the smaller of the two boys picked up an end and gestured at the other to pick up the other.

The other boy flipped his black hair out of his slightly haughty face and bowed grandly to Remus.

After the two boys had hefted the trunk, the smaller boy turned to Remus and asked, "Where to?"

He was about to say that he didn't know where to go when a much older boy shouldered his way into their group.

He looked to be about sixteen, with thick blond hair and a shiny green and silver prefect badge pinned to his chest. His cold grey eyes swept over the scene and came to rest on Remus.

"What do we have here?" his voice was soft and sneering. "Is the trunk too heavy for the little boy? Well maybe little boys shouldn't be at Hogwarts if they can't even lift a trunk."

Swiftly he strode forward and knocked the trunk from the two younger boys' grip. It fell to the floor with a crash and sprung open, revealing all of Remus's possessions.

With a sneer, the older boy kicked the trunk over, scattering its contents over the train's floor.

"That should help," the older boy laughed derisively, "maybe it'll be light enough for the little boy to carry now."

Kicking books and robes to either side of the corridor, the older boy began to stride off when, his face flaming with rage and embarrassment, Remus strode forward to intercept him.

"What are you going to do little boy?"

The string of brave words that had come to his tongue died before they ever could be released. The older boy was huge, and he was a prefect. He didn't know what he was thinking trying to stand up to him.

He honestly didn't even know where his bravery had come from. He was a relatively passive boy who usually let taunts prick at his insides, but not affect him enough to fight back.

Maybe it had been the older boy questioning whether he should be going to Hogwarts that made these taunts too large to be contained and suppressed, and gave him the courage to stand up to the older boy. But it was now, in the moment of confrontation, that he realized he couldn't do anything. He was frozen by fear, unable to speak.

Then, as though the universe was for once on his side, a voice rang down the corridor.

"Hey Malfoy, you've got to come see this! Yaxley's got a couple of fourth years cornered, and you wouldn't believe the spells he's using!"

"Idiot!" Malfoy hissed.

He wheeled around and began to head down the corridor, but then seemed to remember Remus and the other boys.

Without breaking stride, he whipped his blond head around and said, "you watch your back little boy, or I'll rearrange your possessions... and not those in your trunk." He raised his fist and mimed punching Remus in the head. With a chuckle, he strode out of sight.

A small crowd had gathered to watch the scene, but as soon as the older boy had left they began to trickle away. Amongst their chatter about what had occurred, Remus overheard the full name of the older boy. It was Lucius Malfoy. He made a mental note to stay as far away from him as possible in future.

He began to scramble around gathering his books and other items. The two other boys helped as well, and soon enough most of his possessions were back in his trunk where they belonged.

"Here."

He almost didn't catch the soft voice over the loud boisterous chatter of the other two boys. When he looked up from packing away his cauldron, he saw a small girl with dark red hair and startlingly green eyes holding out his Transfiguration book to him.

"Thank you." he said and, smiling at her, he reached out for the book.

As she released the book she murmured shyly, "I'm Lily Evans." He noticed as he took it that her eyes were red rimmed as though she had been crying.

"I'm Remus. Remus Lupin."

"Nice to meet you Remus."

As he bent down to pick up the remainder of his belongings, she bent down as well to help.

"That was a brave thing you did, standing up to that boy."

He blushed. He didn't deserve her praise. He would have just stood there like an idiot if that other boy hadn't called Malfoy away. He didn't want to admit it though. Lily was talking to him like he was a normal person, and he didn't want to drive her away by admitting to his cowardice. He had initially attempted to stand up to Malfoy after all, and she didn't have to know that he had frozen.

"I didn't think I'd be able to." he admitted timidly. Lily seemed like the kind of person that you could tell embarrassing truths to, even if they were only half-truths.

"What changed your mind?"

"I don't know. He said that I shouldn't be here, and I kind of think I shouldn't be either. Then I remembered that I am here and I want to be here so I'd better stand up for myself."

In horror he clamped his mouth shut. Lily's open expression and friendly demeanour had caused him to admit more than he should have.

"Why do you think you shouldn't be here?"

His mind racing, he remembered the lie he was supposed to tell.

"I get sick a lot... and I don't know if I will be able to keep up with the work." He stumbled over the untruth and internally chastised himself. He'd have to become much more comfortable reciting that phrase if he was going to keep his condition secret.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sure you'll do fine." Lily said sympathetically. Noticing his mortified expression she added, "My sister really wants to come to Hogwarts, but she can't."

"Why not?"

"She's a muggle." With her admission, her face flamed red. She obviously hadn't meant to confess that.

"I'm sorry, she must be upset."

"Yes she is." Lily replied sadly, turning her face away.

"Are you coming or are you just going to stand there until we get to Hogwarts? I thought that's why we're lugging this around."

He turned around, and saw that while he had been distracted talking with Lily, the two other boys had closed up his trunk and hefted it into the air again.

"Yes."

The smaller dark haired boy smiled and asked, "You want to sit with us?"

He didn't have anywhere else to sit, and these two boys had been nice to him. He had promised himself that he'd make friends at Hogwarts; hard as that might be.

"Sure, sounds good. Thanks for your help."

"No problem."With that, the two boys set off down the corridor.

Turning to lily he asked, "You coming?"

She nodded and they set off after the other boys.

When they had reached a compartment halfway down the train, the group stopped and with Remus's assistance heaved the heavy trunk into the luggage rack.

"I'm James Potter." The shorter boy said. Gesturing to the other boy who was now lounging carelessly across a row of seats he added, "and this is Sirius Black."

"Remus Lupin."

"Nice job standing up to the troll." Sirius commented.

Remus gave a noncommittal grunt. He just wanted to forget the whole thing. Luckily enough, James and Sirius lost interest in the topic fairly quickly and carried on laughing and joking about various inane things.

Sliding over to sit beside Lily next to the window, Remus tried to engage her in conversation. But she just shrugged him off with vague answers to his questions. She was evidently still thinking about her sister.

The lunch trolley came and went. Feeling a bit queasy, he only bought a few chocolate frogs. His monthly transformations always left him feeling ill for several days afterword. He loved collecting the cards though, and was only missing a few.

Sadly, he didn't get any he needed. He was about to throw them away in the pile of rubbish they had all created when James spotted them.

"Hey! I'll trade you these for them!"

He was holding out a box of Every Flavour Beans.

Not really wanting the candy, but feeling pleased that someone wanted to trade with him, Remus agreed to the swap.

Slowly he became more drawn into Sirius's and James's conversation. They were talking boisterously about quidditch. Remus, being an avid follower of the sport, was able to comfortably add much to the conversation.

Having had such a solitary childhood, he had been drawn to activities that could be done alone. Reading and flying were his two refuges. It was so easy to be drawn into a book. He could spend hours reading on virtually any topic. He would get lost in the written word and could forget about his loneliness for a time.

Flying also allowed him to forget his life. It was hard to be concerned with the cares of the world when he could soar high above it. He longed to join the quidditch team of whichever house he got sorted into, but knew that because he would be gone for several days a month he could never be allowed to join.

Playing quidditch, that was one of hundreds of things his lycanthropy had taken away from him. But the one thing he missed and craved the most was friendship. The companionship of children his own age who wouldn't judge him or scorn him.

How he wished to be normal. To be James or Sirius, who probably didn't even know what lycanthropy was

Internally shaking himself he diverted his thoughts from this slippery slope of depression. He had traversed it too many times and he knew it led nowhere.

He grasped on to the only thing he could. The fact that he was going to Hogwarts! This thought was a gleaming talisman of warmth inside his mind. It chased the shadows of his disability away to the distant corners of his brain. And, as James and Sirius laughed uproariously at a joke he had made, he could almost forget the shadows were there.

He smiled broadly. Letting the lines of fatigue fade from his face. He was going to Hogwarts and he might have friends!

*** September 1, 1993 (present) ***

... "Professor R. J. Lupin."

With a jolt his mind returned to the present. The window beneath his cheek was vibrating as the train chugged along.

He had drifted so far into his memories that he hadn't even noticed the train leaving the station. Now there were kids in the compartment with him.

Keeping his eyes closed he hoped they'd leave. His reminiscing had left him depressed, that on top of the affects from his most recent transformation made him less than good company.

The kids, attempting to remain quiet, slid the compartment door closed and sat down in the seats farthest away from him.

He decided to push his bad mood away far enough to greet the people he would be sharing the train ride with.

He slowly turned his head and opened his eyes, quickly clamping them shut again.

He couldn't breathe. He could have sworn his heart stopped beating.

Could it be?

James Potter, whom he knew to be dead, was sitting in the compartment with him.


	3. Chapter 3

Moony's Musings

Chapter 3

By Trep092

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Get it? Got it? Good!

I'd like to dedicate this Chapter to Johnny Depp's Best Lover. She knows why.

I'd like to thank my Beta Erik's Song for all of her assistance. Without her I'd be sitting in a corner spouting gibberish.

A/N: There are direct quotes from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban chapter five "The Dementor" in this chapter so I shall reiterate one more time, I do not own it, J. K. Rowling does.

*** September 1, 1993 (present) ***

James Potter, whom he knew to be dead, was sitting in the compartment with him.

James! He wanted to shout for joy but his paralyzed mind wouldn't allow him coherent thought, let alone speech.

His best friend was here; returned from the grave. How could it be?

His head bumped the window as the train rattled over a rough patch of track. This jolt shook the last clinging vestiges of memory from his mind.

Of course James wasn't here. The boy sitting in the compartment with him was evidently Harry, James's son.

He didn't know how he could have been so stupid. Of course James was dead, gone from the physical world. Off on another grand adventure leaving him behind.

The ever-present void of sadness inside him gaped wider. It had been his constant companion for twelve very long years. Ever since he heard the news of James's and Lily's deaths and Voldemort's subsequent downfall, it felt as though his heart was an empty pit with no hope of it ever healing.

His life had been full of hardship, but the worst thing that had ever happened to him was certainly the deaths of his best friends. Not even the attack which had transformed his carefree childhood into one of agony and ostracism came close to comparing.

So few people wanted to come near him, let alone befriend him, so he cherished friendship above all things. Even his own life.

That is why he couldn't bare thinking about Sirius. To betray a friend to their death was above all crimes in his book. He didn't want to believe that Sirius of all people had betrayed James, his supposed best friend, but the evidence was pointing overwhelmingly in that direction.

Of course there had been signs. Sirius had become increasingly fearful and paranoid as the time he spent in the Order doing dangerous missions dragged on. When they had suspected that someone within the Order had changed sides and was providing information to Lord Voldemort, he had even gone so far as to name Remus as the traitor and leave him out of the plans to keep the Potters safe.

It was entirely possible that Sirius had switched sides out of fear, but Remus couldn't wholly believe it. Sirius had been a great friend. He was kind to most people, courageous, and most significantly of all, loyal to his friends.

Although, he sadly reflected, Sirius had been responsible for almost revealing him as a werewolf in their sixth year by playing that malicious prank on Snape. He was sometimes reckless and didn't think things all the way through. He only thought about the reward of that particular venture and didn't consider the consequences.

Could that be what happened twelve years ago? Had Sirius been offered the "glory" of Voldemort's service and not considered the idea that he would be responsible for the deaths of Lily, James and Peter his best friends?

No. Sirius had always rebelled against the ideology and actions of Voldemort, his followers and supporters. He had been disowned by his own family for disagreeing with their support of Voldemort's dogma.

For the thousandth time he was thinking in circles. He had tried to figure out Sirius's actions and motivations many times over the last twelve years and hadn't gotten anywhere. He usually just settled on the fact that a trial had weighed the evidence and witness statements and had found him guilty. Therefore he must be guilty. How could a street full of eye witnesses be wrong?

And now his unprecedented escape from Azkaban. Both Muggle and Wizarding worlds were in turmoil over the escape of such a highly dangerous convict.

The widely accepted theory was that he had escaped to finish the job he had started: killing the potters. Then it was rumoured that he would set off to find his master Lord Voldemort. If it was true that Sirius had killed the Potters then it was only logical that this would be his course of action.

But still that wriggling worm of doubt gnawed at his gut. He was about ninety-seven percent positive that Sirius was guilty. The remaining three percent was clinging to the image of Sirius as he had known him; a good man and friend not a murderer.

This mental argument was pointless. He just went round in endless loops never accomplishing anything. He should be paying attention to what was going on aboard the train, for if Dumbledore was right he would need to protect the students from Dementors searching for his old friend.

And yet he couldn't bear talking with Harry. He just looked too much like James, and without his mental barriers in place to block himself off from the near crippling grief he felt when thinking of his deceased best friend, he just couldn't handle it for the moment.

Certainly he knew that Harry would be amongst the students he'd be teaching, but he hadn't planned on having a chat with him before he got settled in his new job.

As if he didn't have enough to think about right now, his fears about teaching came back with a vengeance. He really hoped that he would be a good teacher. He had a mental picture of the ideal teacher that he wished he had had when he was in school and he desired to emulate it. He had had very good professors at Hogwarts, but none of them really made the effort to get to know their students personally. None of them had singled out struggling students and given them a confidence boost. They usually just heaped more homework on them. He didn't want to be like that. He knew what it was like to be marginalized and didn't want that for his students. He wanted them all to be equal in their confidence in their studies despite their differing abilities.

Mentally shaking himself, he pushed all these thoughts aside. He couldn't do anything about Sirius besides read the prophet and help to protect Harry, if he didn't feel comfortable talking to Harry he could just continue pretending to sleep, and as for his teaching ability, he wouldn't find out what kind of teacher he was to be until he was standing in front of his first class.

Those issues temporarily shelved, he turned his attention to the three students who were sharing the compartment with him. They were keenly discussing the village of Hogsmeade.

The girl was saying, "But Hogsmeade's a very interesting place, isn't it? In Sites of Historical Sorcery it says the inn was the headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack's supposed to be the most severely haunted building in Britain."

She evidently read a lot and absorbed facts like a sponge. She reminded him a lot of himself; though he didn't usually enthusiastically gush out his knowledge as she was doing at the present.

One of the boys interrupted with a continual description of the culinary delights of Honeydukes sweet shop. A small grin touched his lips. How he remembered the excitement that particular shop had brought him and his friends the first time they visited. Of course they hadn't known that was where they were headed at the time.

James had discovered a secret tunnel leading god-knows-where in their second year, and one night, the four of them had snuck out under James's invisibility cloak to see where it led.

They had trudged along for what seemed like hours-and the novelty of sneaking around had started wearing off-when they reached a staircase and a trapdoor. When they had emerged into the cellar of a fantastic sweet shop they had been overjoyed. It was a much more exciting adventure than simply heading down to the kitchens for food.

Mindful of the sleeping shop owners, they had snuck around the shop and sampled as many confectionaries as possible (taking one of each and leaving payment in the till at Remus's insistence).

It had been an amazing evening. Of course the next day they had fallen asleep in several lessons and had been given detention for not having their homework completed, but it was worth it.

That had been the grand adventure that had started them on their quest to find all the hidden nooks, crannies, and tunnels in Hogwarts and its grounds.

"Won't it be nice to get out of school for a bit and explore Hogsmeade?" the girl asked, obviously trying to steer the conversation away from sweets.

"'Spect it will," said the other boy heavily. "You'll have to tell me when you've found out."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't go. The Dursleys didn't sign my permission form, and Fudge wouldn't either."

The Dursleys. That name was familiar...

*** November 3, 1981 ***

He sprinted as fast as he could across the grounds of Hogwarts school. His limbs were powered solely by the rage and grief burning in his heart.

How could they be dead?

His friends, the only people who accepted him for who he was were dead. Dead or locked up in Azkaban for life.

He was lost in this new World of hope. With Voldemort vanquished and everyone celebrating, he was more depressed and angry than he'd ever been at the height of the war.

He hadn't heard all of the news until this morning. He had been unreachable on Halloween because of his transformation, and then he'd been laid low with a bout of severe fatigue.

It was only this morning-when he'd been able to stumble from his bed-that he'd found the pile of Daily Prophets announcing the downfall of Lord Voldemort and the deaths of Lily and James Potter. There had also been the news that Sirius Black had killed Peter Pettigrew and twelve Muggles and was now languishing in Azkaban.

How could his World go to Hell so quickly? For the millionth time he cursed his lycanthropy. If he hadn't been trapped in a werewolf form on Halloween he could have done something to save his friends.

Well actually he couldn't. He hadn't even known where the Potters were, having been left out of the secret by a paranoid Sirius.

Damn him! Sirius had been one of his greatest friends, loyal to a fault, and he had turned on him and called him traitor. But now he realized this had been Sirius's plan the whole time. To get everyone out of the way so he could personally deliver Lily, James and their son to Voldemort.

The only time he stopped in his headlong dash was when he reached the front steps of the castle. He flung open the doors and sprinted across the entrance hall and up the marble staircase.

He was here to see Dumbledore. He was the only person who could answer his questions.

As he hurtled down the corridors towards Dumbledore's office he didn't even bother to pay attention to the strange looks he was receiving from students, ghosts and portraits alike.

Skidding to a halt beside the gargoyle statue that guarded Dumbledore's inner sanctum, he rested his hands on his knees and panted for several minutes attempting to catch his breath. Calming his rapid breathing, he straightened up and faced the gargoyle.

He gave the password "chocolate frog." Which he knew from being a member of the order of the Phoenix. The gargoyle sprang aside revealing the circular staircase moving slowly upward.

He dashed through the gap in the wall and-not being patient enough to wait for the staircase to deliver him to his destination—sprinted up the stairs.

Stopping at the door with the griffin knocker, he caught his breath and knocked.

"Enter."

Too anxious to care about propriety, he rushed into the office, and nearly shouted, "Is it true?"

"Yes Remus," Dumbledore sighed, "yes it is true."

"Oh my God!" Remus gasped and collapsed boneless into one of the chairs before Dumbledore's desk. "All of it?"

"Yes."

"And Harry?"

"Safe and sound with his relatives—the Dursleys."

"Muggles?"

"Yes."

"Wouldn't it be better—couldn't I?"

"No Remus—"

"How dare you! You—because—Werewolf?" He was speechless with anger. How could Dumbledore even think he couldn't look after Harry because he was a werewolf!

He jumped to his feet, his pulse was racing and he felt hot blood rushing to his face.

"You misunderstand me!" Dumbledore said in his soft yet powerful voice. "If you would only grant me a minute to articulately convey my thoughts Remus, you will understand."

"Sorry sir." Remus mumbled and resumed his seat.

"I had no choice but to leave Harry with his Aunt and Uncle." Seeing that Remus was going to protest vehemently, he raised his hand for quiet. "When Lily and James died, Lily died protecting her son out of love. This created a magical protection around Harry that will only be activated when he is in the home of one of Lily's relatives. And, as her sister Petunia Dursley is her last remaining relative he is safe there."

"But—"

"I am not making this up because I believe them to be better qualified for the job than you Remus. As you well know I don't judge people for their differences. It is just something that has to be done."

"I'm sorry sir. I just—"

"You blame yourself." It wasn't a question. Dumbledore was demonstrating his uncanny ability to know exactly what a person was thinking.

"Well—"

"Well don't. It was not your fault Remus. I understand that you were kept out of the loop so you didn't know where the Potters were, so even if you weren't transformed at the time, there was nothing you could have done. The only ones who are to blame are Lord Voldemort and the traitor."

"You mean Sirius. I can't believe he would..."

"I am not sure Remus, there is overwhelming evidence that points to his guilt."

"And Voldemort?" Remus added wildly. "Do you really think he is gone? Is that why you are leaving Harry with the Muggles?"

"In a nutshell... no I don't believe he is gone for good. And to answer the second part of your question, that is indeed why I'm leaving Harry where he'll be completely safe and away from the attention of the Wizarding World."

Rising with a sigh, Remus said apologetically, "I'm sorry about my interruption Headmaster."

"Don't apologize Remus," Dumbledore said softly, "There will be much misplaced guilt and blame. In the wake of Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. The best thing we can do is weather the storm and draw our own conclusions about what has occurred over time. Your anger at Sirius won't be gone tomorrow, nor will your grief at your friends' passing. Just know that you will come to accept it in time."

"Thank you, Headmaster. Good-bye."

"Good-bye Remus and good luck."

*** September 1, 1993 (present) ***

So the second boy was evidently Harry. No wonder Fudge wouldn't sign his Hogsmeade permission form. With Sirius on the loose supposedly searching for Harry in order to kill him, it was best if the boy remained inside the grounds of Hogwarts where he'd be safe.

Safety was all he had ever wanted for James's son. That is why he hadn't protested more when Dumbledore had explained that he couldn't look after the boy. That, and when he had calmed down he realized that no matter what Dumbledore said about him being a fit parent, he knew that he could never shoulder the responsibility of raising a child. He was too dangerous for a growing boy to be around.

"Ron, Don't!" the girl shouted angrily.

This outburst brought him jolting back from his reminiscences. He had to get a grip on his emotions and memories or he would be completely ineffective at protecting the students if dementors were to show up. He couldn't let the students or Dumbledore down.

Unconsciously, he gave himself a little shake to make sure his mind stayed in the present. He only realized that he had moved when the conversation around him stopped abruptly. Still not eager to converse with James's son, he turned his head to the side, and let his mouth hang slightly open as though just shifting his position in sleep.

With all his mental strength he kept his thoughts in the present. It was harder than he thought it would be. The nostalgia of being back on the Hogwarts Express, and being in the presence of his best friends' son pulled his mind continually towards the past.

So he concentrated on the sounds of the train. On the pounding footsteps of students running up and down the corridor, on the rattling of the wheels on the train tracks, on the air rushing past the window he was using as a pillow, and on the chatter of the three students in the compartment with him.

Through a heated debate over a cat and a rat, he learned that the other boy's name was Ron, and the girl's name was Hermione. Harry kept pretty quiet except for when asked a direct question by the other two.

Time passed. He had drifted into a state of relaxation that allowed him to concentrate on the words being said, and the rest of his mind was blissfully blank.

Sometime later, the witch who pushed the lunch trolley arrived at their compartment.

"D'you think we should wake him up? He looks like he could do with some food. " The voice he now knew was Ron's asked.

Someone approached him slowly. "Er—Professor?" Hermione asked nervously. "Excuse me—Professor?"

He didn't move. He wasn't hungry.

"Don't worry dear. If he's hungry when he wakes, I'll be up front with the driver." With that, the witch left the compartment sliding the door closed behind her.

"I suppose he is asleep? I mean—he hasn't died, has he?" asked Ron.

Did he look that bad?

"No, no, he's breathing." Whispered Hermione.

The afternoon continued on in the same manner as the morning; idle conversations being held by the other three members of the compartment.

It began to rain. He felt the window beneath his cheek become cold, and he could hear the patter of droplets hitting the glass.

Soon after the compartment door slid open again. A boy with a cool drawling voice entered the compartment and said, "Well, look who it is, Potty and the Weasel."

Two other boys laughed trollishly.

"I heard your father finally got his hands on some gold this summer, Weasley. Did your mother die of shock?"

Remus heard a clunk as something hit the floor. He was just about to open his eyes to intervene when he had a better idea—he snorted.

"Who's that?" asked the drawling boy sounding fearful.

"New teacher. What were you saying, Malfoy?" replied Harry coolly.

"C'mon." Malfoy muttered to his two cronies and they left the compartment.

It had worked! Remus felt a sudden urge to laugh, but he held it in. How he wished he could have done that to Lucius when he had picked on him on his first ride to Hogwarts... Lucius! This bully Malfoy must be his son. Well the apple certainly didn't fall far from the tree in this case.

The rain was falling heavier now. It pounded against the windowpane making it rattle beneath his head. The temperature seemed to have dropped several degrees as he was shivering. His thin patched robes provided little warmth.

Wistfully he began to day dream about Hogwarts and the welcoming feast. He still wasn't hungry, but he thought that a nice bowl of soup would feel great. Yes, a bowl of soup and then a nice warm bed to curl up in.

Lanterns were turning on up and down the train. He could see their warm glow through his eyelids. If he wasn't mistaken they were nearing Hogsmeade Station. It was hard to judge time with his eyes closed, but the train seemed to be slowing down thus indicating their imminent arrival at the platform. He breathed a small sigh of relief. No dementors had made an appearance. Dumbledore's feeling must have been wrong.

"Great," Ron said as he walked carefully past Remus to look out of the window, "I'm starving. I want to get to the feast..."

"We can't be there yet." Said Hermione.

"So why are we stopping?"

The train was definitely slowing down now. As the sound of the train died away, the pounding rain was amplified.

With a jolt the forward motion of the train halted, and the warm light of the lanterns was extinguished.

He was wrong.

Dementors were boarding the train.

*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*

Please review, I'd love to know what you are all thinking.


	4. Chapter 4

Moony's Musings

Chapter 4

By Trep092

I'd like to thank my beta Erik's Song for all of her assistance translating this from Trep092 language to English.

Disclaimer: Repeat after me, "Trep092 does not own Harry Potter." Good! Now lather, rinse, , repeat!

There are direct quotes from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban chapter 5 "The Dementor". I don't own it.

A/N: This chapter is very long, and it is mostly made up of a memory. At one point there is a memory inside a memory (inception anyone?). I hope you enjoy. Please review.

*** September 1, 1993 (present) ***

Inky darkness pressed against his open eyes. At least he thought they were open. For all the good it did he might as well have kept them shut.

"What's going on?" asked Ron.

"Ouch!" Hermione gasped. "Ron, that was my foot!"

"Do you think we've broken down?"

"Dunno..."

There was movement in the darkness and a squeaking sound. Ron was standing in front of him attempting to peer out of the dark, steamed-up window.

"There's something moving out there," Ron said. "I think people are coming aboard..."

So it was confirmed. Dementors were coming aboard. The Hogwarts Express never stopped to pick up hitch hikers.

The compartment door slid open and someone entered, and by the sounds of pain issuing from that direction, they had tripped on someone. There was a clamour of voices as the person blundered around in the dark and then sat on what sounded like a very angry cat.

"I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on." Hermione said and slid open the door.

He was about to stop her—it would be a nasty surprise for her when she ran into a dementor—but she was halted when she evidently ran into a person trying to enter the compartment as there were more squeals of pain.

All of the peoples' voices were swirling around inside his mind. He was trying to listen for cries of fear that would indicate that the conductor had let the monsters on board, but he couldn't hear anything over the sound of the jostling of bodies trying to find a place to sit.

"Quiet!" he said forcefully. His voice came out a lot hoarser than usual due to his not drinking anything all day and his not speaking for the same period of time.

He thought that he might have to repeat the command, but the compartment fell instantly silent. That was much better. Slowly he rose, and, making use of his prowess at wandless and non-verbal magic, he summoned a handful of flickering flames to illuminate the compartment.

"Stay where you are," he said in the same hoarse voice and began to walk towards the compartment door. He was going to go find the dementors and banish them off the train. Sirius Black was not among them and the students didn't need to be terrified for no reason. He agreed with Dumbledore's view that the dementors were not fit to be among humans, and it was wrong for the Ministry to trust them so blindly.

He had nearly reached the door when it slid slowly open. It was not another student seeking refuge in the compartment. It was a tall and putrid dementor.

He heard a gasp to his left, and turning slightly, he saw Harry go rigid and fall forward out of his seat on to the floor in front of his feet.

He then felt the wave of cold despair flow over him, purging any thoughts of hope and happiness he'd managed to build around the void of misery in his heart, and freezing him to the spot.

"Why are you here?" the dementor seemed to ask. "You are useless. Dumbledore is only taking pity on you. You shouldn't have left your hovel. All your friends die because of you and all these students are feeling misery because of you. Look at the Potter boy. Something's wrong with him and all you can do is stand here and feel sorry for yourself. You are wretched and unfit to live among humans..."

Each barb hit him straight in the heart. The dementor's ability to suck all happiness from its surroundings was causing him to think of things that would completely incapacitate him with misery.

He was usually adept at ignoring such despairing thoughts, or at least pushing them aside, but his weakened mental barriers proved unfit for containing the thoughts that the dementor's breath was unearthing.

Images were beginning to assault his mind. A werewolf running at him while he was frozen in terror, the Potters' cottage destroyed, their single grave marker...

There was something he should be doing, though he couldn't think what it could be as his mind was foggy and his limbs felt like lead.

He had to think of something happy. That was it. He searched his clouded mind feverishly but only came up with images of death and destruction.

Gritting his teeth he managed to wrench a small part of his mind away from the consuming desolation of the dementor's breath. He searched frantically for a memory that held even the smallest glimmer of happiness. Finally he settled on the memory of Dumbledore arriving at his home a week ago to offer him a job.

*** August 25, 1993 (one week prior) ***

Hunger clawed at his belly as he sat at the rickety wooden table in the small room he called home. Well it was his home for now. His rent was paid up until the end of the month but then he'd have to vacate it.

Sighing, he carefully piled the meagre supply of Muggle money he had been counting back into his wallet. He had enough for a few days of food in which he would be searching for a new job and residence. If he couldn't find a job within that time he would go hungry. It wouldn't be the first time, and most assuredly it wouldn't be the last.

Rising, he turned and surveyed the room. It was quite small and sparsely furnished. It held the table at which he was just sitting, a single chair, a pallet on which he slept, and a box holding his few possessions. The walls were painted white, though time and a lack of proper maintenance were responsible for their peeling and grubby state. A small grimy window overlooked a back alley and an overflowing dumpster.

He had taken a job a few months ago at a small Muggle grocery store owned by an eccentric but benevolent old man. The man (Mr. Brown) had offered him a job, and hadn't minded when he disappeared for a few days a month.

At first he had told Mr. Brown that being ill was the reason for his absences. But the old man was quite convinced that he had a girlfriend and he was sneaking off to visit her. Finally, he told him that he was right; that he had a girl in Scotland that he visited once a month. The old man was delighted for him and willingly gave him the time off. After all he was a hard worker and worked enough overtime hours to cover his absences.

The only drawback to this was that Mr. Brown was quite a gossip and demanded to know what he had done and where he had gone with his girlfriend. So he had to use his knowledge and imagination to create plausible scenarios. Mr. Brown, being a lifelong bachelor, had eaten it all up delightedly, and then told him how crazy he was forever thinking of losing his freedom to a girl.

Mr. Brown had set him to stocking shelves and occasionally minding the till. It had been easy work for little pay, but it had been enough to keep him fed and sheltered.

He had worked for Mr. Brown for half a year—longer than he'd worked for anyone Muggle or Wizard—when the old man passed away in his sleep. His will left the business to his Nephew Henry who wasn't much of a businessman. Henry was closing up the store and laying off the few employees including Remus.

So now he was out of work again. Luckily he had paid his rent on his small room for the month so he had shelter for a few more days.

He stretched and yawned. His stomach chose that moment to growl loudly once again. He needed to eat. Searching through his meagre supply of food he selected several granola bars and a banana for his dinner. It wasn't exactly gourmet but he was never any great shakes at cooking even with magic to help the process along. He knew he should eat more, he could feel the strange pulling sensation in his gut that told him the full moon was near, and after his transformations he was never hungry for a few days, But he had to conserve his rations. God knew when he'd be able to get food again.

He hated living like this. Living from day to day never knowing where his next meal would come from. When he was lucky he'd have work, but eventually he'd be kicked out on to the streets again. Some days, especially those times around the days of his transformations, he wondered what he was doing trying to prolong his existence. He was a creature of peoples' nightmares. He served no use to society.

But then he'd remember how precious life was. He'd remember his dead friends and realize that they wouldn't want him to pine away. After all, he was the one with life yet to live. He should try and make the best of it. That was what having friends had taught him. That there was life outside of the little bubble he'd created around himself and his lycanthropy. James, Sirius, Lily and yes even Peter had all shown him a world in which he could exist happily and be accepted for who he was. God how he missed them.

Raising his glass of water, he said softly, "to friends," and then drank deeply.

After he had eaten and cleaned up after his meal, he settled down on his pallet with a battered well-worn book.

Reading was something he had enjoyed in his youth, and still loved as an adult. He had an insatiable appetite for knowledge and read anything he could get his hands on. He didn't just read books about magic, and those by Wizards. His mother had been a Muggle born and she had passed on to him the love of Muggle books. He loved how they thought, their history, how they accomplished everyday tasks, and most of all, their views on magic. He was currently working his way through a thick book that contained the three novels of the Lord of the Rings Series.

Shifting his position on the pallet, he cracked open the book to where he had left off the night before. He instantly lost himself in the words on the page. He forgot his plight, the pull that told him the full moon was near, and eventually himself. The only reality was a world in which nine people of differing races sought to destroy a ring to save Middle Earth.

A loud knock on his door brought him back to reality with a jolt. He leapt to his feet and the book fell heavily to the wooden floor. He never had visitors.

Wildly he thought it might be the woman who rented him his room, but she was quite old and found it nearly impossible to climb the stairs.

He did a quick inspection of his room. Nothing was visible showing his identity as a wizard except for his wand which sat on the table. He quickly snatched it up and tucked it into the waist band of his pants underneath his t-shirt. The knock came again.

swiftly he went to the door and opened it a crack, then flung it wide when he saw who was waiting in the corridor.

"Professor!" he gasped staring at the old man in shock.

"Good evening Remus," Dumbledore said with a smile.

He couldn't believe it. He hadn't seen Dumbledore in—could it possibly be twelve years? It didn't seem that long. He realised his mouth was hanging open and shut it quickly.

"How-why?" he asked eloquently.

"I believe such questions would be best answered sitting down," Dumbledore replied with a twinkle in his eyes behind his half-moon spectacles.

"Er—of course professor. Come in," Remus said standing to the side to allow his old headmaster to enter into the small room.

Closing the door, he surveyed the seating possibilities. He gestured for Dumbledore to take the only chair and he perched on the cardboard box holding his clothes and books.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked as he uncomfortably watched Dumbledore's eyes inspect the room. He was acutely aware of the fact that his bedding was rumpled and the whole room could do with a good scrub.

Ignoring the question, Dumbledore pulled a bottle from the pocket of his robes and summoned a couple of glasses. "Drink?" he asked comfortably.

Remus felt his cheeks flame with embarrassment. He was the host and he should have offered a drink to his guest, but a combination of shock, curiosity and not having a guest in more years than he could remember, made him forget his manners.

"Er—thank you," He said awkwardly, taking the proffered glass of mead from Dumbledore.

They sat in silence for what seemed like many minutes but was probably less than one. Remus wasn't sure what to say. He'd been essentially cut off from the Wizarding World for several years save for occasional correspondence with a few people and his subscription to the daily prophet. It had been at least three months since he had received an owl bearing a personal note. Thus he was baffled as to why Dumbledore had sought him out in person.

Finally, unable to bear the uncomfortable silence and Dumbledore's scrutiny, he blurted, "how did you find me?"

"Poppy told me where to find you," Dumbledore said matter-of-factly.

Oh yes, Madam Pomphrey. She was one of the few people who kept in touch with him. He had grown close to the matronly lady during his tenure at Hogwarts. Besides Dumbledore, she was the only person who knew of his lycanthropy, and like Dumbledore, she didn't judge him for it. To most people she displayed an air of sternness, but she seemed to have a soft spot for him which he knew was kind-heartedness rather than pity. She always had had a listening ear, and a compassionate word for him when he needed it.

After he'd left Hogwarts he hadn't expected to hear from her ever again, but she sent him an owl every few months asking after his health.

"And how is Madam Pomphrey?" he asked Dumbledore curiously.

"Oh, just spiffing." Dumbledore replied.

They fell into awkward silence again. Remus took a small sip of the liquor from his glass. It burned a trail down his throat. He set the glass aside. After an incident nearly twelve years ago he'd given up drinking alcohol.

"I'm sure you are curious as to why I've shown up on your doorstep," Dumbledore said shrewdly.

Remus nodded, gesturing for his hero to continue.

Dumbledore leaned forward, resting his chin on his long fingers, and said, "Unfortunately the Hogwarts staff is yet again short a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. I'd like you to fill that position."

Remus was stunned. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined that. In his fifth year he had been confronted by the task of choosing a career. Not being naive, he had realized that he wouldn't be able to carry out many of the careers offered, and the ones he could possibly do—potionier, herbologist—held no interest for him. He couldn't talk to his head of house or any other teachers because they wouldn't know why he was unemployable. He tried to ask his friends for help, but they just made wise cracks about his situation.

Finally, with the deadline for his career advice meeting drawing near, he sent a desperate letter home to his parents. Their reply was full of love and encouragement, telling him he could do anything he set his mind to. He usually loved this kind of support from his parents, they after all had worked tirelessly to get him a place in the Wizarding World, but this time he through their letter into the fire in disgust. They obviously hadn't accepted the fact that he was looked down on and virtually unemployable. He couldn't go on like he was now, making up excuses for his disappearance every month. He knew that people were suspicious and weren't buying the stories he was concocting these days. After all, there were only so many times he could claim his mother was ill.

So the day of his career advice meeting arrived and he shuffled off to Professor McGonagall's office not knowing what he was going to say. It was when he was sitting in front of her desk, and she had asked him the all important question, that he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. The only thing he'd ever dreamed of doing was teaching. Professor McGonagall actually smiled at him and told him that she could envision him teaching at Hogwarts someday.

Her praise had thrilled him, and he had gone on to receive high marks in all of his NEWTs. But he'd never actually thought he would be allowed to teach. So after Hogwarts he had joined the Order of the Phoenix with his friends and became a full-time agent. Now he sat here, fifteen years after graduation, and he was being offered the impossible.

"I of course would have liked to have you years ago," Dumbledore was saying, "but you isolated yourself from the Wizarding world and I didn't wish to hassle you. But I find myself in quite a bind, and I hope that you'll take me up on my offer."

"But sir—how could I?"

"As I do recall, you wanted to be a teacher, or has this changed?"

"Of course I'd love to—"

"Then I see no problem. Unless," here Dumbledore's eyes swept around the sparsely furnished room, "you have a job you'd rather have. I'd never desire to take you away from your work."

"Well no, I'm currently unemployed—"

"Well that suits us perfectly," he said with a small smile, "And as I do recall Minerva has recommended you highly on several occasions. Also I can personally attest to your vast intellect, your cool-headedness, your patients, and your bravery. You will make a fine teacher Remus."

He was bowled over by Dumbledore's high praise. For the first time in days he felt a smile creep onto his face. A warm glow was spreading inside him, and he was positive it had nothing to do with the small amount of alcohol he'd consumed.

"I'd love to take the position," he said, and seeing that Dumbledore was about to interrupt he quickly added, "but I must decline, Headmaster. I don't think a person in my er—situation should be teaching students. Look what nearly happened in my sixth year. I could have killed a student."

"Do you not think I took that into account? You could always use the Shrieking Shack—"

"No!" he nearly shouted. "No I couldn't. It's not safe."

"—or," Dumbledore continued patiently, "you could avail yourself of the services of our Potions Master, who possesses the necessary skill to brew the Wolf's Bane Potion."

"But that would entail me revealing my true identity," he said thoughtfully. He had gone so long with people only suspecting, never knowing, who and what he was.

"This individual already knows. Our Potions Master is Severus Snape."

A chill ran down his spine. While he didn't harbour the same loathing towards Snape that Sirius and James had, the name and resultant mental image still made him cringe. Snape had been an odd kid that had provoked James's and Sirius's ire on their first trip to Hogwarts, and their relationship had never improved. He never joined in with the bullying of Snape—it wasn't in his nature—though he had never tried to stop it from happening. He didn't personally dislike Snape, he actually had felt an odd connection of being an outcast between them. While he could never be friends with Snape, he felt that he could work alongside him. Severus was, after all, willing to brew the Wolf's Bane potion for him and of course Dumbledore trusted him.

Dumbledore must have seen the acceptance on his face, for he continued, "it is my feeling that your true condition should be revealed to the entire staff as well. It's only right to trust them with this, and I know that they will accept it. After all, most of them have all ready suspected it and they know you Remus. They trust you as I do."

He doubted that they would all accept him, but he had a feeling that Dumbledore was right. The staff was mostly made up of people that had taught him at school, or had fought alongside him in the Order. They hopefully knew him as a good person who had fought for Dumbledore against Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters. And maybe, just maybe there opinions wouldn't change when they knew he was a werewolf. He had many doubts, but he trusted Dumbledore, and if he said it would work, then Remus could only believe him.

"Okay," he finally said into the silence left in the wake of Dumbledore's last remark. "I'll do it!"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily as he smiled broadly. "That's wonderful news Remus."

They sat for a while discussing the DADA syllabus and Hogwarts. Eventually the conversation turned to Harry Potter and his exploits, and then to Sirius's escape from Azkaban and its implications. It was at this point that Dumbledore asked him if he would travel on the school train in case the ministry ordered dementors to search it. Of course he agreed readily. Dumbledore had done much for him, and he would do anything to repay him.

Several hours and a great deal of talking later, Dumbledore rose and begged his leave. After walking him to the door, and bidding him a good night, he turned to face his home. A few short hours ago he was dreading his leaving, not knowing where he'd end up. But now he could relax. He had his dream job, a safe and stable place to live, intellectual company and he would have transformations that would be no less painful for him, but would be much safer for anyone who could stumble across him. He felt as though a burden the size of Hogwarts was lifted off his shoulders.

Smiling broadly, he went over to the box of his belongings, and began to sort through it. Finally, from the depths he pulled a small package. Walking to his bed, he sank onto the blankets and unwrapped the old crinkled brown paper from the parcel. He uncovered a tiny object that he enlarged with his wand.

It was a leather brief case whose edges were held together by neat knots of string. He softly stroked the supple leather and then examined the small name plaque. It read "Professor R. J. Lupin."

His parents had given it to him as a graduation gift on his last day at Hogwarts. His heart felt as though it would burst with the warmth of Dumbledore's praise and his parents' remembered words.

"We are so proud of you, son. We told you that you could do anything you put your mind to."

"Yes," he whispered as he placed the case on top of the table with the name plaque proudly facing the room, "yes you were right. I only had to wait fifteen years to see that the World hasn't completely turned its back on me."

He had niggling worries about what he was going to do, but he couldn't help feeling happier in that moment than he could remember being in a very long time.

*** September 1, 1993 (present) ***

A bubble of happiness inflated inside his mind, pushing away the hopelessness that the Dementor was causing. Stepping over the prone figure of Harry he moved towards the horrid fiend towering in the compartment doorway.

"None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go," He commanded. The dementor didn't move, it just drew in another long rattling breath.

"That's right Lupin," he thought scathingly, "demand that it leave. That will definitely work."

Drawing up every modicum of happiness he could from his memory, he pulled his wand out of his pocket and said, "_Expecto Patronum_."

A cloud of silver vapour burst from his wand. It wasn't a corporeal patronus-his happy memory was evidently not happy enough—but it succeeded in driving off the dementor.

Quickly, he knelt beside Harry's form on the floor and checked him over. He was unconscious but all right.

Rising, he told the two students hovering nervously over their friend, "He's okay. You can try and wake him."

As the two students—Ron and Hermione he assumed having actually never seen them—began talking to and shaking Harry, trying to rouse him, he dug around in his case for the large bar of chocolate he had stowed there. Just as his fingers closed around the chocolate, the train came back to life with a jolt; the lanterns winked back on and the train slowly began to pick up speed.

"Harry! Harry! Are you all right?" Hermione's voice was shrill with worry.

"W-what?" Harry groaned as he regained consciousness.

Ron and Hermione helped Harry to his feet and onto his seat. He looked pale from the effect of the dementor's breath. His bangs were stuck to his forehead in clumps by sweat revealing his lightning-shaped scar, and his glasses were knocked askew.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked Harry nervously.

"Yeah," said Harry, looking quickly towards the door where the dementor had stood. "What happened? Where's that—that thing? Who screamed?"

"No one screamed," Ron said apprehensively.

"But I heard screaming—" Harry said confused.

The dementor had obviously affected Harry a great deal more than the others. It was no wonder though. He had witnessed and experienced much in his young life, from the death of his parents to meeting their killer Lord Voldemort on no less than three separate occasions. From what Dumbledore had imparted to him as well, he had nearly died on all those occasions.

With a loud snapping sound, Remus began to break the chocolate bar into six rough pieces. Handing the largest chunk to Harry he said, "Here. Eat it. It'll help."

Harry took the piece but instead of eating it he looked at Remus curiously and asked, "What was that thing?"

"A dementor," Remus replied as he handed the remaining chocolate pieces to the other students, keeping one for himself. "One of the dementors of Azkaban."

He crumpled up the chocolate wrapper and placed it into his pocket. Looking around he saw that the five students were all staring at him still holding the melting chocolate in their hands. "Eat. It will help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me..."

With that he strolled out of the compartment and into the corridor. A few feet down the train he stopped and leaned against the wall. He needed to get his head on straight. That dementor had affected him greatly. It had made him hesitate and that was unacceptable. He gritted his teeth and forced his feelings back into the pit they had come from, and shoved a lid down on them. He knew it wasn't a healthy solution to bottle up his feelings, but it would work for the present. He wouldn't be able to teach or look after students if he kept doubting himself. He knew what he was doing, and Dumbledore trusted him. He just needed to trust himself.

After his little mental pep talk, he felt a bit steadier. he straightened and walked through the train until he reached the glass partition separating the driver's booth from the rest of the train. He wrapped on the glass, and when the man opened the door, he said sharply, "I need to borrow an owl." The driver recoiled at his tone.

Remus knew that it wasn't the Driver's fault that Dementor's had boarded the train—he probably had orders from the ministry to allow their search—but he couldn't help being irritated with the man.

"A-an owl?" the man stammered.

"Yes, an owl. I need to send a message to the school."

"We'll be there in fifteen minutes..." said the driver uncertainly.

"This can't wait," Remus said exasperated. "The dementor you let aboard made a student ill."

Wordlessly, the driver gestured to a perch where a large barn owl sat looking down imperiously on the proceedings. It was kept there to send messages in case of emergencies.

Quickly, Remus pulled out the wrapper from the chocolate. Flipping it over and flattening it out he wrote

Minerva,

Dementors boarded train. Potter collapsed. Get Poppy to check him out.

R. Lupin

He tied this brief note to the owl's leg, carried it to a window, and let it fly off into the downpour. Nodding to the driver, he turned on his heel and strode back to his compartment. As he walked, he shoved his piece of chocolate into his mouth. He instantly felt better. Some of the burden that weighed down his shoulders seemed to be lifted.

Stopping at the compartment door, he saw that the five students still sat talking and ignoring the chocolate he'd given them.

The new lightness in his heart allowed a smile to touch his lips as he joked, "I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know..."

The smile grew larger as he saw the surprised expressions on their faces once they had taken a bite of the chocolate.

"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," he added as he went to his seat and pulled his case down from the luggage rack.

As he turned he saw Harry looking at him. Yet again he felt a squirm in his gut. He looked so much like James. Except for his eyes. He had Lily's eyes. He was about to turn away when he realized that he was being stupid not talking to him. He would remember James and feel the pain of his loss whether he talked to Harry or not, and as he was going to be teaching the boy, he should speak to him. After all, Harry was not James, and it was about time he realized it. Grabbing the bull by the horns he asked, "Are you all right, Harry?"

Harry ducked his head in obvious embarrassment and muttered, "fine."

"See," he internally chided himself, "not that difficult, was it?"

The final minutes of the train ride were passed in silence in the compartment. As the train swayed to a halt at Hogsmeade Station, there was a mad scramble of students vacating the train. Quickly, he stepped into the corridor and began to direct the mayhem.

As he finally stepped off the train into the cool, damp night, he heard the unmistakable sound of Hagrid calling, "Firs' years this way!"

A small smile stretched across his face. He was back in the Wizarding World, where he belonged.

*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*

Please review, my RL is terrible right now and I could do with a smile.


	5. Chapter 5

Moony's Musings

Chapter 5

By: Trep092

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, would I be writing "fan" fiction?

I'd like to thank my beta, Eric's Song for all she does.

A/N: There are direct quotes from The Prisoner of Azkaban chapter 5 "The Dementor" used in this chapter. I claim no ownership of it.

*** September 1, 1993 (present) ***

The cold night was at first refreshing, but soon enough he was shivering and his teeth were chattering uncontrollably. His thin, patched robes were no match for the icy rain and he was soon soaked through to the skin; he was miserable as he trudged in the muddy wake of the students. Reaching the line of carriages pulled by thestrals, he clambered into the last one in line, and slammed the door shut on the biting wind and rain.

The line of carriages began to move off along the bumpy track away from the station. Through the grimy glass he could see the outline of the thestral pulling his carriage. He detested thestrals. They were a tangible reminder of all the death and destruction he had seen during his time with the Order.

Slumping down in the lumpy seat, he closed his eyes and cleared his mind so that all he focused on was the gentle sway of the carriage. He was exhausted. Who would have thought that pretending to sleep all day was so tiring. But now that he was done being on the alert for dementors he could let the irresistible pull of sleep weigh down his limbs...

He was rudely jolted back to earth when they passed through the huge, wrought iron gates. They were flanked by two dementors, and their icy auras flowed over him. He reclosed his eyes, and silently urged the carriages to travel faster away from the monsters guarding the gate.

They picked up speed as they traveled up the wide sloping lawn. The icy feeling subsided quickly as they trundled toward the illuminated castle.

It hadn't changed in the twelve years since he had last been here—on that terrible day after he'd found out about the deaths of his friends. The tower windows were brightly lit, the forbidden forest was a dark impenetrable shadow with the bright lights of Hagrid's cabin nearby. The dark lake's surface was being lashed by the wind and rain. He could just make out the shape of the Whomping Willow, standing sentinel over the tunnel that led to the shack where he used to transform.

The line of carriages came to a halt at the bottom of the stone stairs that led up to the great oak entrance doors. He clambered out into the wet night and the sea of students all shoving each other in the attempt to get inside the warmth of the Entrance Hall. He waded forward and endeavoured to organize the students into some semblance of a line.

He was just helping up a small second year girl who had fallen in the mud, when he heard a drawling voice behind him sneer, "You fainted, Potter? Is Longbottom telling the truth? You actually fainted?"

He whipped around. Harry and his two friends were standing beside their carriage, their path blocked by a fair-haired boy with a pale pointed face. He had never seen Lucius Malfoy this young, but he imagined this was exactly how he would have looked.

"Shove off, Malfoy," said Ron with his jaw clenched angrily.

"Did you faint as well, Weasley?" retorted the Malfoy boy, "Did the scary old dementor frighten you too, Weasley?"

"Is there a problem?" Remus said mildly, his tone not reflecting the irrational anger he felt at the words of the bully.

"Oh, no—er—Professor," Malfoy said smirking insolently. He obviously wasn't as intimidated by him now as he had been on the train.

Malfoy and his two silent cronies set off towards the castle, pushing through the remaining students. After a beat, Harry and his friends followed.

Remus followed in their wake. He was disgusted by the bullying behaviour of the Malfoy boy. It was evident that this was a common occurrence. He hadn't thought that Harry would be at odds with another student, but being his father's son, he realized it was inevitable.

The warmth of the Entrance Hall embraced him as he finally entered the castle. He sighed happily feeling the cold evaporating from his limbs, though his robes were still damp and clung to his frame.

He followed behind the sea of students into the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling was as black and clouded over as the sky outside. Enchanted candles were floating over the long house and staff tables, setting golden plates and goblets to glittering merrily.

Automatically he set off towards the Gryffindor table with a group of students, and then stopped embarrassed; he could feel the heat emanating from his face. Hoping that his faux pas wasn't noticed by anybody, he reversed his direction and headed up to the staff table.

When he reached the table at the top of the hall, he paused. Where was he to sit? There were a few empty chairs, and he didn't desire to make a fool of himself by sitting in someone else's chair.

He quietly edged along the back of the table, and did a swift mental calculation. There were three vacant seats. The one at Dumbledore's right side was evidently Professor McGonagall's-she being the Deputy Headmistress. There was a rather large chair situated at the foot of the table, he presumed for Hagrid who hadn't as yet entered the hall. That left the chair three places to the right of Dumbledore between old Professor Flitwick and a dark skinned, black haired witch whom he didn't recognize.

Cautiously, he pulled out the chair, and when no one protested, he sat down. It felt rather surreal sitting at the head table, looking out at the four house tables lined with students. He felt as though he should be among the hoards of anonymous students, not on display for the whole hall to see.

His attention was brought back to the staff table when Dumbledore called down it to Professor Flitwick, "It's time, Filius."

The diminutive Charms Professor nodded and clambered off the stack of cushions which allowed him to see comfortably over the table.

With no one seated between them at the moment, Dumbledore's attention was drawn to him. "Ah, Remus! I'm delighted to see you. Minerva said there was a spot of trouble on the train..."

"Yes, Headmaster," he said as calmly as possible while feeling as though Dumbledore's piercing gaze was looking through his skull and examining his every thought.

"But you handled it excellently," Dumbledore said with a smile.

He wasn't about to tell this man who he idolized that he had frozen when the dementor had appeared. "Thank you, sir."

To his immense relief, Dumbledore's attention was drawn away from him as a long line of first years entered the hall with Professor Flitwick at their head carrying the Sorting Hat and stool.

The nervous group of students were led up to the top table and filed along it, stopping and turning to face the rest of the student body.

He could only see their backs from where he was sitting, but he could imagine that their small faces were pale with a combination of nerves and fear. He could remember precisely how they felt. Exactly twenty-two years ago, he had been one of them.

*** September 1, 1971 (twenty-two years prior) ***

He was shaking. His stomach felt as though it was moments away from expelling the chocolate frogs he had eaten on the train. He had the horribly sickening feeling that he was about to transform. He wasn't going to transform right? Before his common sense could kick in, an intense, irrational wave of fear swept over him. He was about a second from bolting for the exit when he reminded himself that it was about four weeks until the full moon, and there was no way he could transform just because he was a bit nervous.

The other first year students in line with him seemed to be just as nervous as him. Oddly, this calmed him a bit. If everyone else was anxious, then it was acceptable for him to be as well.

Honestly, he hadn't really thought about which house he was going to be sorted into. He had only had mingled feelings of worry and happiness at the mere thought of being allowed to go to school. But when that Snape boy on the train had mentioned that he hoped Lily would be in Slytherin, the conversation in the compartment had turned to houses.

James had been adamant that he would end up in Gryffindor like his Dad. Sirius had admitted that his whole family had been in Slytherin, but he hoped that he wouldn't be. After this revelation, the conversation was changed to families. But Remus was left wondering which house he would be sorted into.

His parents had both been in Gryfindor, the house of the brave and bold. He felt neither brave nor bold. If he was brave he wouldn't feel any fear or trepidation at the thought of going to school. Ravenclaw didn't sound too bad. The house of the learned and intellectual. If he wasn't picked to be in his parents' old house, he would hope to be in Ravenclaw. He didn't know too much about Hufflepuff, besides the fact that most people said it was the house for duffers and misfits. It sure sounded as though that was the place for him.

That left Slytherin. He hoped with all his might he wouldn't end up there. Though, would the fact that he was considered to be a dark creature automatically send him to the house that turned out the most dark wizards? He felt panic rising inside him again. If he was sorted into Slytherin, he'd leave because his worst fears that he was evil would have been confirmed.

Professor McGonagall, the stern faced witch that had met them at the castle doors, was standing in front of them with a long roll of parchment, evidently poised to read off the names of the first years to be sorted. And as she started to read off the names in alphabetical order, he stared at the Sorting Hat on the spindly-legged stool.

The hat had startled him and the rest of the first years by singing a song about the four houses through a rip near its brim like a mouth. Its song had expounded on the different qualities looked for by each house, but he was still uncertain as to where he belonged.

The line began to thin as students were called forward, the hat placed on their heads, and then the name of their house was shouted out, and the students at the appropriate table applauded enthusiastically.

As "Angus, Lauren" was sorted into Ravenclaw, a horrible thought struck him with enough force to knock the air out of his lungs. During its song, the hat had said it would see inside their heads. What if it saw that he was a werewolf and would announce that fact to the whole hall?

Professor McGonagall's voice broke dimly into his thought as she called out, "Black, Sirius."

He felt oddly detached as he watched the haughty looking boy from the train stroll confidently up to the stool. The hat sat on his head for barely ten seconds before it shouted, "Gryffindor!"

There was an odd hush throughout the hall, and then the Gryffindor table burst into applause. It may have been his imagination, but a quick look at the Slytherin table revealed stunned faces.

So Sirius had gotten his wish. He hadn't been sorted into Slytherin like his whole family before him. Maybe he'd get his wish not to be sorted into Slytherin as well. Maybe he'd be lucky and be sorted into Gryffindor like his parents. A surge of hope swelled up inside him.

The line was thinning rapidly. With each name called, he stopped breathing hoping, and also dreading that it would be him. He watched anxiously as Lily, the nice girl from the train, was sorted into Gryffindor. He thought that her friend Snape wasn't pleased at the moment. Finally, when he didn't think he'd be able to take much more panic, Professor McGonagall's stern voice called, "Lupin, Remus."

He could have sworn his heart stopped beating. He wasn't sure what force drove him forward on wobbly legs towards the stool. His sweat slicked hands slid on the stool as he sat down. He had one last glimpse of the Great Hall and the hundreds of faces staring at him, and then the world went black as the hat was dropped onto his head.

"Ah, Lupin," a voice said in his ear, "what a unique person you are."

His chest tightened in fear.

"Please, please don't tell—"

"Don't be daft, boy," the voice snapped. "I'm not here to spill secrets, that is not my purpose. Though, if it were up to me... Hmm let's see. Plenty of intelligence. A vast supply of fierce loyalty-that could get you in trouble one day. The potential for good, and yet also the potential for iniquity—"

"But doesn't everybody have that?" he asked before he could stop himself. He was angry that the hat was pointing out his greatest fear.

"—But with the bravery and determination to pick a side and stay true to it. I know where to put you... Gryffindor!"

The last word was shouted out for the whole hall to hear. The hat was whipped off his head, and on unsteady legs, he stumbled off towards the Gryffindor table that was cheering him enthusiastically.

He peered up and down the table trying to find a place to sit. There were several empty benches beside Sirius. He wasn't sure if the boy would want him to sit with him, he didn't seem to have been to interested in him on the train. He and James had gotten on very well, and he had been left sitting in the corner only occasionally brought into the conversation. He had been too shy to just jump in.

He was about to continue down the table to an empty bench next to a pearly white ghost, when Sirius smiled broadly at him and patted the seat next to him.

Smiling gratefully, he slid onto the bench and sighed in relief. He wasn't a Slytherin!

"Good one!" Sirius said thumping him on the back.

"You too," he gasped as he fell forward into the table from the force of Sirius's enthusiasm.

"My parents are going to be so furious," Sirius said not looking concerned in the slightest.

They sat watching the rest of the sorting companionably, cheering with the rest of the table whenever someone was made a Gryffindor.

When "Potter, James" was called, he and Sirius both rose slightly out of their seats to be able to see better. The hat had barely touched James's black hair when the hat shouted, "Gryffindor!"

He and Sirius both cheered wildly as James headed towards them with an enormous smile on his face. As he flopped down into the seat on the opposite side of Sirius he said, "I knew it! No sweat."

Remus smiled as Sirius clapped James on the back. James may have appeared nonchalant, but Remus could swear he saw a flash of relief cross his face.

"Great job, Sirius, and you too Remus!" James said happily reaching around Sirius to pat him on the back.

"You too," he replied happily.

A few short minutes ago, he had wanted the sorting to drag on forever, but now, as his stomach let out a loud growl of hunger, he wanted it to be over.

Wait, he was hungry! James and Sirius, who had looked around at the loud growl from his stomach began to laugh at the look of stunned surprise that must've been on his face. Just that morning he had felt queasy and ill from his most recent transformation, but now he felt ravenous.

"That, my friend, is the sound that means you're hungry," James said with the air of explaining something simple to a small child.

"It means you don't have my superior stamina, I'm not nearly hungry," Sirius added with a mock superior look that quickly slid off his face as his own stomach growled.

"What was that?" Remus said with a grin. "Did your stomach just say something?"

"Feed me!" James warbled in a high-pitched voice, "Sirius feed me! The amount of effort you put into that look of superiority broke my stamina and I'm now starving." They all laughed uproariously.

As he sat at the Gryffindor table, beside two people he now knew were his friends and with the welcome feeling of hunger in his stomach, he felt lighter and happier than he could ever remember being.

*** September 1, 1993 (present) ***

Blinking, he brought the present Great Hall back into focus. He realized that his attention had wandered for quite a while. Professor Flitwick was reading off names in his squeaky voice. Dimly, he realized that he'd missed the Sorting Hat's song. Gritting his teeth, he mentally chastised himself yet again. He had to stop letting his mind wander off. He kept missing important things. Sitting up straighter in his seat, he firmly kept his mind focused on the ever dwindling line of first years, applauding politely with the rest of the table as each student was sorted.

Finally the last student "Young, Charles" was sorted into Hufflepuff, and the sorting was finished. During the intervening time between the end of the sorting and the start of the feast, he looked interestedly up and down the Staff table. Hagrid had arrived from taking the First Years across the lake sometime during the sorting. As he caught his eye, Hagrid smiled broadly at him and waved. He gave a wave in return. He and the Marauders had known Hagrid very well during their time at Hogwarts, and they had fought alongside him in the Order of the Phoenix.

He saw a few other familiar faces up and down the table from his time at Hogwarts. Professor Sprout was still teaching Herbology and Professor Vector was still teaching Arithmancy.

Seated to the left of Professor Dumbledore he saw another familiar face that wasn't so welcome. Snape looked exactly the same as the last time he'd seen him. His black hair was greasy, his nose was hooked, and his black eyes flashed the same malevolent look at him.

The scraping of chairs beside him brought his attention back to his immediate surroundings. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were taking their seats. With every chair at the Staff table filled, Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet and a hush fell over the hall.

"Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast..."

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "as you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."

It may have been a trick of the light, but he could've sworn that a gleam of disgust flickered briefly in Dumbledore's eyes.

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," he continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises—or even Invisibility Cloaks."

Remus wondered why he had added that bit about invisibility cloaks. It was as though he was talking to the Marauders. No, not the Marauders, to Harry. He had never known what had become of James' invisibility cloak after his death. Had Harry perhaps come into possession of it? For some reason this thought made him smile.

"It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses," Dumbledore continued.

"Or demands that they leave," he thought disparagingly as he remembered his actions on the train.

"I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors," Dumbledore added with an extremely serious look on his face.

The hall was dead silent for several moments as everybody absorbed the gravity of Dumbledore's words.

"On a happier note," he finally continued, "I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year."

"First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

A polite smattering of applause filled the hall, though he noticed that the applause was loudest at the Gryffindor table. He hadn't expected an overwhelming welcome, he had cut himself off from the Wizarding World after all and wasn't very well known.

He felt as though someone was staring hard at him. He turned his head and saw Snape glaring directly at him with the ugliest look of loathing he'd ever seen directed at anybody, let alone at himself.

The happiness he had felt when Dumbledore had announced him as "Professor Lupin" died instantly replaced with an overwhelming feeling of sorrow. If only Snape knew how sorry he was that he hadn't stopped his friends from bullying him. After they had left school, and Snape had joined the Death Eaters, he hadn't felt so guilty. But now that they were both Professors, and Snape had agreed to mix the Wolf's Bane potion for him, he felt terrible for his youthful actions.

"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued as the lukewarm applause for Remus died away. "Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."

The applause for Hagrid was much more tumultuous than it had been for him, but he didn't mind at all. He was just as pleased as everyone else that Hagrid was now a professor.

"Well, I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore after the storm of applause had died away. "Let the feast begin!"

As the golden plates and goblets filled with food and drink, he felt the same unexpected wave of hunger that he had felt twenty-two years prior, sweep over him. Reaching for the nearest platter of chicken, he began to pile food onto his plate.

As he dug into the sumptuous feast, he listened to the chatter of conversation around him. Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall had their heads together talking quietly. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he had a strong feeling that they were discussing Harry. It was obvious that Professor McGonagall had missed her usual job of overseeing the sorting because she had received his note and had taken Harry to see Madam Pomfrey.

Peering at the Gryffindor table, he saw Harry's black haired head between the red and brown of his two friends. He sighed in relief. He had been worried that Harry had been affected badly by the dementor, but if the always overcautious Madam Pomfrey had released him then he must be all right.

"You must be brave," a cool feminine voice said to his right.

Whipping around, he saw that the dark skinned witch he'd noticed earlier was looking straight at him with a kind smile touching her lips.

"Er—what makes you say that?" he asked confused.

"Your job," she replied leaning forward towards him. "People say it's jinxed, because no one lasts more than a year."

"Well I guess I'm up to it," he said baffled. He had the strange thought that she was flirting with him.

"Only guess?" she asked with her long eyelashes fluttering.

"Well—er—yeah, I'm up to it."

"Well that's good," she said finally leaning slightly back. "I'm Aurora Sinistra, Astronomy professor."

"Remus Lupin," he said proffering his hand.

"It's lovely to meet you," she said taking his hand in her smooth cool grip.

"You too."

"Oh, leave him alone, Aurora," said the witch on her right, "Can't you see he's trying to eat?" Her attention was drawn away, though he could have sworn that her eyes kept flicking back to him.

The main course finally melted off their plates and was replaced by dozens of desserts. Feeling completely overstuffed, he refrained from indulging, though the platter of tarts nearest him looked mouth-watering. He had probably just eaten more in one sitting then he had in the last week, or at least it sure felt like it. Fatigue was weighing down his limbs, all he wanted now was his nice warm bed.

Finally, when he was on the verge of laying his head down on his plate so he could sleep, Dumbledore dismissed the students.

He began to push back from the table, but Aurora placed a hand on his arm stilling his movement.

"Wait," she said quietly.

None of the staff were moving, they were all sitting staring at Dumbledore. As the last few students finally left the hall, Dumbledore rose and said, "I shall meet you all in the staffroom in fifteen minutes. Could the heads of house please make sure that all students are in their houses and not in the corridors. Thank you."

A staff meeting? He sighed and clambered tiredly to his feet.

He followed Aurora and her friend out of the hall. He was so exhausted he barely noticed the route they were taking. When finally they arrived at the staffroom, he collapsed into one of the comfortable armchairs surrounding the long wooden table, not really caring by that point if he had taken someone else's spot.

Slowly over the next few minutes the remainder of the staff trickled in and settled down around the table. Everyone seemed to be beat as well. There was very little conversation, and many smothered yawns. Someone summoned a pot of coffee and everyone eagerly poured themselves a cup.

Finally, Professor Dumbledore entered the room and took his place at the head of the table.

"I know you are all longing for your beds so I will make this meeting as brief as possible. As usual there are a few start of term notices that I must share with you."

Professor Dumbledore then proceeded to outline the school's policies for discipline, safety, exam procedures, leave and sick days, weekends off, and supervision schedules. While he listened as hard as he could, trying to bully his brain into remembering important details, he saw that some of the older teachers who had obviously heard this spiel many times, were appearing to pay attention, though were rolling their eyes to heaven as the Headmaster rambled on.

What seemed like hours later, Professor Dumbledore finally said, "I know that that was very tedious, but it was quite necessary. Now I have one more announcement, and as it is rather important, I beg for your full, undivided attention."

"Most of you," he continued once everyone was looking at him curiously at the serious tone in his voice, "know our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher Remus Lupin."

He couldn't imagine why Professor Dumbledore was singling him out like this. It couldn't be because he was new, or he wouldn't sound so serious... Then it hit him. He was about to tell the staff about his lycanthropy.

Suddenly his hands were slick with sweat. He had known this was coming, and he thought he was prepared. Professor Dumbledore had seemed so confident a week ago that everything would be all right, so he hadn't worried too much. Now though, in the moment, he was absolutely terrified.

He shouldn't have come. He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up. Professor Dumbledore was going to tell the staff, and he would be run off like the animal he was.

"Professor Lupin was an excellent student here a couple of decades ago. Most of you taught him during those years."

Many smiles were flashed around the table. He noticed that Professor McGonagall even sent a smile in his direction. He felt slightly better at the remembrance of her saying that she could see him teaching at Hogwarts one day.

"But what you may not have known," he continued sombrely, "is that as a young boy, he was bitten—bitten by a werewolf."

*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*

I know this is cutting it short, but in my neck of the woods it is still the 10th, and thus it is still Lupin's birthday. So Happy Birthday Lupin!

To celebrate I went to a concert and then ate chocolate. The concert was a complete coincidence, but I ate the chocolate in his honour. Oh, and I also posted this chapter for him. So if you wish to wish him a happy birthday, leave a review!


	6. Chapter 6

Moony's Musings

Chapter 6

By: Trep092

A/N: This chapter was not looked over by a beta. I apologize in advance for any spelling/grammatical mistakes that I didn't catch.

Disclaimer: Here's a little exercise for you. Pick up any of the Harry Potter novels. Now look under the title. Is Trep092 written there? I thought not.

*** September 1, 1993 (present) ***

The silence that followed in the wake of Professor Dumbledore's last statement was so profound that you could have heard a single hair hit the ground. He felt the eyes of his fellow staff members staring at him so intensely that he felt as though he had just walked on stage in front of an expectant crowd.

He put all of his strength into not shifting nervously under their scrutiny. He was barely breathing, and his heart was racing so fast that he thought that every single person in the room would be able to hear it in the silence.

The unnatural stillness dragged on for what seemed like hours. He couldn't bring himself to look around at the reactions of the teachers around the table. He locked his gaze firmly on a ring on the scratched and scuffed wooden table that was caused by a coffee cup and waited anxiously for the storm of protest to start.

"So Remus and his parents thought that he would be unable to attend school," Dumbledore continued, his voice sounding very loud as it shattered the silence. "But I thought that, with some precautions, there was no need to prevent him from receiving an education just like everybody else."

Remus felt his cheeks begin to redden. Was Professor Dumbledore going to tell his life story to these people? What was the point in justifying his actions? These teachers weren't going to listen to Dumbledore's calm reassurances no matter how much they respected him. He might as well get up now and leave.

"But Albus," croaked a voice from the other end of the table, "that was so dangerous."

The voice belonged to Professor Sprout, and she looked mortified as everyone, at her interruption, switched their stares from Remus to her.

"I do agree that there was a certain element of danger in it," Dumbledore said calmly, "but there's a natural element of risk having hundreds of underage wizards locked up together, each possessing the ability to maim others with a misplaced spell or—"

"But that's not nearly comparable," blurted Professor Aurora Sinistra, the pretty dark-skinned witch who had flirted with Remus at the banquet. Her honey coloured eyes were now staring at him with fear and suspicion. "He's a beast! Werewolves kill people; it's not nearly the same as accidentally transplanting someone's face on to a cactus." Her cool voice was rising and becoming shrill.

Lupin sunk down farther into his chair. His face was burning with humiliation and anger-anger that was not directed towards Aurora, he knew that everything that she had said was true and justifiable. No, his anger was directed towards the one man he thought would never let him down.

He had told Dumbledore that it would be a bad idea to reveal his true nature to the staff. In fact he had told Dumbledore it would be a bad idea for him to even accept the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. He was a danger to the students and the staff, but Dumbledore had reassured him that it would all work out. Well, Dumbledore's little "oh by-the-way-the-new-Professor-is-a-horrible-monster-that-could-kill-you-or-turn-you-into-a-beast-like-him-but-don't-panic-everything's-fine" speech was going very badly. He was surprised they haven't gone off screaming or at least drawn their wands.

At that moment his eyes involuntarily swept over the table. He really didn't want to see the looks of disgust he thought he'd see on the faces of Professors who had not only taught him for seven years of his youth, but had also fought alongside him in the war against Voldemort in the Order of the Phoenix, but some small ugly part of him wanted to see the truth that Dumbledore, his parents, and his three closest friends had denied. That he wasn't a person deserving of basic rights, that he was a fiend that deserved to be killed or exiled.

Unbidden, memories of the past came to the fore-front of his mind.

*** April 13, 1968 ***

Pain.

All he knew was the searing agony that threatened to tear his mind from his body. His vision was black. His ears were filled with an obnoxious buzzing, and his tongue felt thick and dry in his parched mouth.

Through the haze of pain he could feel a softness that didn't fit in with the other harsh sensations gripping his body, Warmth that spread from a pressure on his hand, and a feather-light brush against his brow. He fought to get closer to the comforting caresses and away from the horror that was reliving itself in his mind.

"Remus."

The voice that was calling his name was filled with pain but yet it still held notes of security and encouragement.

"Open your eyes baby."

Was that all he needed to do to escape this dark world of fear? It seemed like such a simple answer to his problem. But he trusted that voice without reservation.

With an enormous force of will he cracked his eyes open. He could see a blurry white ceiling which he dimly recognized as the one in his bedroom, and then his view was blocked by the caring face of his Mother. Though she was smiling tenderly down at him, her eyes were pinched with worry, and her normally meticulously coifed hair looked dishevelled.

He tried to speak and to reach out to her, but his voice and arms failed to respond to his brain's commands.

"Don't move baby," his mother said, affectionately brushing his hair off his forehead, "you were hurt badly, but you'll be just fine. It's alright, you'll be fine."

He wasn't sure whether she was simply reassuring him, or if she was trying to convince herself that he was going to recover.

The fiery agony returned then with a vengeance and his eyes unwillingly filled with tears.

"Its okay son, Auntie Esmeralda will be back soon. She's gone to fetch some potions that will make you feel all better."

His Auntie Esmeralda was his Mother's sister. She was a Healer at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries in London. She had a no-nonsense look about her and she rarely smiled. Remus had rarely seen her. His parents didn't get along with her very well, especially his father. Auntie Esmeralda disapproved of her sister marrying John Lupin who was in her book, "a dirty Muggleborn" who was a "poor" reporter for the Daily Prophet which was "not an appropriate job to support a family", or at least that was what she had shouted at John the last time she'd set foot in the house almost a year earlier. Remus must have been seriously injured if his Father had agreed to allow her to return after that fight.

At that moment, the bedroom door swung open and Auntie Esmeralda blew into the room, her grey streaked, brown hair ordered into rigidly formed curls, her thin mouth pinched in her trademark scowl.

"Now let's see what trouble you've managed to get yourself into this time." She said as she jerked back the blankets covering his torso.

He felt his stomach clench as he got his first look at the wound that was making him feel so horrible. It was a large, raw looking bite-mark on the right side of his chest just below his collar bone.

Esmeralda's stern face became more severe. She prodded the edges of the wound which immediately began to leak fowl yellow pus.

The pain of her rough prodding made Remus's eyes fill with tears, and an unearthly yell of pain escaped his throat.

His mother was instantly at his side stroking his hair back from his sweat-slicked forehead. "Was that truly necessary Esmeralda? It's okay baby, shhhh you're fine."

"Do you know what bit him?" Auntie Esmeralda snapped at his mother.

"We're not sure," his Mother said in a quavering voice, "John's out looking now, but we don't really have a hope of finding the animal. It's probably long gone now."

So that was where his Father was. Remus had briefly thought that he hadn't wanted to see him.

"Well I'm pretty sure I know what bit him," Auntie Esmeralda said in a strange, strained voice.

"What do you think it was? Will Remus be all right?" These rapid-fire questions came from the normally unflappable, deep voice of his Father who was standing pale-faced in the doorway.

"Well judging by the shape of the wounds, and the distinctive colour and odour of the pus originating from them, I would say with some certainty that Remus was bitten by a—by a Werewolf."

His mother gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth. Remus didn't know what to think. Of course he'd heard of werewolves, but they were only in stories; hideous beasts that bit unwary travellers in distant and dark forests and turned them into… Was he now a werewolf? His breathing, which was already shallow do to the pain, became rapid. The room was spinning dizzyingly around him, and he could hear his heart pounding in his ears.

"Remus, you need to calm down, or you will pass out."

He felt strong fingers brush his bangs from his forehead, and then his Father's large hand squeezed his much smaller one.

"Breathe, son. Slowly like me."

Remus felt his hand being pressed to his Father's chest. Through the cloud of panic and pain, he could just feel his Father's chest rising and falling in a slow, calm rhythm. He did his best to emulate the pattern and soon enough, the room slowed its rotations, and, though he could still feel his heart pounding fiercely in his chest, the beats were no longer echoing in his ears.

"It's okay son, it'll all be okay. I promise you." His Father's voice was strained and worried, but Remus felled slightly reassured. That was until Auntie Esmeralda's harsh voice broke in.

"Don't say that to him John. He needs to come to St. Mungo's and be isolated—"

"Locked up you mean!" His mother's voice was shaking with anger. Remus shrunk back fearfully. With all the yelling, pain, and confusion circling around his head he didn't know what to think. The one thought that kept coming to him was that he was now a werewolf, a beast.

He struggled to get up. He needed to get away. Words like isolated and locked up scared him. It brought everything into perspective. He couldn't bear the thought that he was dangerous. He didn't want to go to St. Mungo's, and he didn't want to be dangerous. He just wanted to get away to somewhere quiet and think.

"Remus!" A heavy hand pushed on his shoulder, pinning him to the bed. "Don't get up son, we'll sort this out."

Remus was shocked at how little energy he had. He couldn't resist the hand on his shoulder at all. His eyes filled involuntarily with tears of pain, fear and frustration.

Auntie Esmeralda's voice was shrill as she yelled, "you can't give the boy false hope John. He's now a beast, a monster which can't be around humans. He'll be taken care of at St. Mungo's. They have special isolation rooms for them when they transform."

"He's a boy! He's our son!" His mother's voice was firm and hard. The look of shock was gone from her brown eyes. They were now filled with a burning determination.

"Jane. He's going with me. He's a danger to himself, and you and John. He'll attack you. Don't you see? I know you love him, but you can visit him in St. Mungo's."

Besides the pain and fatigue, Remus felt no different. He didn't feel like a monster and he didn't have the slightest urge to attack anyone. He just had his Auntie accusing him of being a beast. Remus was a smart child. He knew if it had been a werewolf that had bitten him; he would be a werewolf too. But it just seemed so impossible. But if it was true, he was dangerous. He would have to go to St. Mungo's and be locked up. He had no desire to hurt his family.

"I—I'll go." Remus's voice was a whisper that nonetheless was loud in the crowded room.

"No!" His Father said with such vehemence that Remus flinched violently. "No. Remus you aren't going anywhere. We can figure this out. There has to be a way that you can stay here. There has to be a cure."

"There isn't! John, you are a fool. He isn't a human anymore. He will kill you and others. I'm going to send for other healers and we'll take him to the hospital. There is no other alternative."

"Yes there is! Get out Esmeralda! Remus will stay here and we'll find a cure. He is our son; a little boy. We will not send him away to be caged like an animal."

"I don't believe it! You'd endanger my sister, your wife. I guess a Muggle born just wouldn't care."

"Get out!" Remus's Mother's voice cracked like a whip. "Get out and do not return. I'm tired of you insulting my husband and calling my son an animal. We will figure out what to do. We don't need your so-called help."

"Fine then," Auntie Esmeralda spun on her heel and strode towards the door, anger evident in her ramrod straight posture. When she reached the door she said over her shoulder, "you know I have to make a report of this to the hospital. They will take Remus away with or without my help."

"Well don't report it then." John said swiftly.

"I have to, it's procedure."

"Esmeralda," Remus's mother's voice was softer, having lost the harsh quality of before, "please. He's our son. We can't make him live in isolation in St. Mungo's forever. He deserves a happy life. We'll find a cure, and if not, we'll find a way to deal with it. Please Esmeralda."

The stiff set of Auntie Esmeralda's shoulders lessened slightly. "For you Jane I will, but I think you're making the biggest mistake of your life. You could be hurt."

"We'll find a cure Esme."

"Keep the bite clean. I can't believe you're doing this, but on your head be it." With those parting words, Auntie Esmeralda strode from the room, shutting the door behind her with a loud thump.

The silence left in her wake was only broken by the ragged breaths of the three remaining occupants of the room.

Remus was in shock. He had awoken to great pain and the knowledge that he was now a monster that could kill his parents or anyone else he came into contact with on one day each month.

"Mom," his voice trembled as he spoke making him sound very young, "what's going to happen?"

"Oh baby." His mother's hand was cool against his forehead as she stroked back his bangs from his clammy skin. "We'll work it all out. Your father and I will find a way to help you—"

"But I'm a werewolf!" his voice had gone from timid to shrill in a matter of heart beats. "I'm a monster, a beast. I need to be locked up like Auntie Esmeralda said. I don't want to hurt you. I love you."

"No!" his mother said loudly, "you are a boy. A funny, intelligent, inquisitive and kind boy who will do great things in life. You don't listen to Auntie Esmeralda. She doesn't know what she's talking about. You are not a monster!"

His mother said the last five words with such intensity that Remus almost believed her.

"It'll be fine son." His Father sank down on to the edge of the bed scrubbing his tired looking face with his hands. "I know many people. Perhaps someone knows a cure for lycanthropy. If not, we'll work it out so you are safe during your transformations. We will never lock you up. You are the most important thing in our lives and we will always do the best for you."

"I'm scared." The admission cost him his slight composure. He burst into great, shuddering sobs that shook his thin frame and made his wound hurt more.

"Oh baby." His mother dropped a kiss on his brow and squeezed his hand. "We're scared to, but we have to be strong and have hope. If we search hard enough we'll find a way to make everything work out."

Tears trickled out of the corners of her eyes, and as Remus looked at his Father, he saw a few tears snaking their way out of the corners of his eyes too.

Remus struggled with the ideas presented to him. He was a boy, and yet he was now a monster. He was absolutely terrified at the thought of him transforming into a werewolf. Would it hurt? What if he did attack someone like he'd been attacked? The horrible thoughts of the unknown plagued him, but looking into the tear-stained faces of his parents, he saw determination. He trusted his parents above anyone else. If they could have hope in the face of this situation, then maybe he could have a little too.

For a long time, the family sat together in shared grief, confusion, and as unlikely as it seemed, fortitude.

*** September 1, 1993 (present) ***

Here he was again, facing judgement for his lycanthropy. These teachers sitting around him held his future in their hands. He didn't know if he could go on if they rejected him. He'd be forever banished to the Muggle world because there was no way that they'd keep such a colossal revelation to themselves. What was he thinking? There was no "if". Of course they were going to reject him.

"We have to be strong and have hope."

His mother's words floated across the mists of time and memory and unexpectedly stoked a spark of determination in his heart. If he was going to be rejected again, he'd do it with his head held high. He couldn't let the teachers sitting with him, some of whom had known him since he was a little boy, see his downfall. And maybe, if he looked determined and not cowed, they'd accept him.

His eyes flicked over the faces of the teachers sitting across from him, fully ready to see their disgust and fear. Instead, he saw grim determination.

Professor McGonagall's dark eyes were stern, but a small smile touched her lips as she saw Remus scrutinizing her.

"I, and others, have thought you were a werewolf for many years Remus. It wasn't too difficult to figure out. And I must say," she shot a look at Professor Sprout and Professor Sinistra, "I have never felt in danger being around him. In fact, I feel that he is a very competent wizard who'll be an asset to our school and staff."

Amazingly enough, Remus saw others nodding around the table. Those who had fought alongside him in the Order of the Phoenix, those who had taught him and others he didn't even know.

"But what about the students? How'd you protect them last time? How was this all kept secret for so long?" Professor Sinistra spoke up again. Remus felt a pang of sadness for the brief normal interactions he'd had with her before. It appeared there'd be no more flirting from her.

"The year that Remus came to Hogwarts, we planted the whomping willow on the grounds." Dumbledore spoke for the first time in a while. He'd obviously wanted to hear out the teachers' opinions. At his statement, many of the teachers who'd been at Hogwarts then nodded in remembrance.

"The Willow guards the entrance to a tunnel which leads into Hogsmeade," he raised a hand to silence the protestations he saw were about to come from Sinistra. "It leads into the Shrieking Shack where Remus could transform once a month. It was obviously magically protected so no one could break in, and we spread the rumour that the shack was haunted to make people keep away and help explain the strange howling noises emanating from the building."

"What if he'd been seen? What if someone had followed or broken in?"

Remus's eyes flicked to Snape who had remained eerily silent throughout the conversation. His black eyes glittered with hatred. Remus knew that he was remembering the ill-fated prank that Sirius had played on him so many years ago.

He was expecting Snape to blurt out the entire story, but he remained uncharacteristically silent, though his entire body was tensed with anger. He wondered what Dumbledore had said to convince Snape to agree to brew the wolfsbane potion for him and to keep his mouth shut.

"It was the best we could do at the time," Dumbledore replied. "We had many protective spells in place and Madam Pomfrey escorted Remus to and from the willow to be sure that he wasn't followed. Today, we have a remedy of sorts that allows a werewolf to keep his or her human mind at the full moon rendering them harmless to humans. It is a complicated potion known as the wolfsbane potion. It was invented a few years ago by Damocles. It is extremely difficult to brew, that is why not all werewolves have access to it. Luckily though, Severus has kindly agreed to brew it for Remus, allowing him to remain at Hogwarts and be able to teach."

All eyes focused on Snape. He gave a stiff little nod acknowledging the headmasters words, though his jaw was clenched so tightly that Remus was surprised that his teeth weren't cracking under the pressure.

"Remus will of course have to lay low at the full moon. He'll erect appropriate defensive wards preventing anyone from discovering him in his wolf state. This shouldn't disrupt his teaching too greatly. If there is a day of classes that Remus is unable to teach, a free staff member should be able to watch over the class."

"I'm assuming that the students will not be informed." Professor Flitwick said in his squeaky voice.

"That is correct," Dumbledore replied calmly, "I believe that there would be panic amongst the students if they were told. They wouldn't grasp the idea that, though Remus will still turn into a werewolf at the full moon, he will not have any desire to attack any of them. Because there is no danger, no one else needs to know. I'd appreciate it if you simply tell students that he is ill if any questions are raised."

There was silence around the table. Most of the teachers appeared relaxed and accepting, though there were still a few who looked doubtful.

"Well it is getting rather late, and I know you all need to make sure everything is set for tomorrow. Are there any further questions or concerns?" Dumbledore looked around the table, and when there weren't any movements to speak, he dismissed the staff.

Remus pushed his chair back from the table. He was exhausted. The last ten minutes of conversation seemed to have drained him even though he hadn't said anything. He couldn't believe that he was staying at Hogwarts as a professor.

"It's nice to see that you are following your dream," Professor McGonagall's stern voice behind him made him jump. "I always thought you'd be an outstanding teacher."

"Thank you Prof—er Minerva." His face flamed red at his near mistake. Hit was exceedingly awkward to call her by her first name. He really needed to work on that.

McGonagall didn't seem to notice. She smiled and left the staff room with the rest of the tired, shuffling teachers. Remus caught a glimpse of Aurora Sinistra pushing her way through the throng towards the door with a scowl on her face. He had the idea that they weren't going to be having any light-hearted chats over dinner anytime soon.

"Remus!" Hagrid's booming voice behind him made him jump yet again.

He turned and smiled up at Hagrid's beaming face.

"Hagrid! Congratulations on the teaching position."

Hagrid's face broke into a large smile. "Thanks Remus! Same ter yeh." His voice lowered an octave, "Always known yeh were what yeh are. An' I say ter yeh, don't let them others get yeh down. They'll know soon enough that yeh're a righ' good teacher and a good man."

Remus's face flushed with the compliment. He was surprised that so many people had guessed what he was and had kept silent.

"Thanks Hagrid."

With a wave of his enormous hand, Hagrid left the staff room whistling.

He felt better after Hagrid's little pep talk. He too after all was visibly different from everybody else and had been dealing with people's hurtful comments and discrimination all his life and yet kept smiling and finding joy in life. He knew how Remus was feeling now. He was a good example to follow.

The staff room had cleared by now leaving himself, Dumbledore and Snape. Remus felt his heart sinking. He got the feeling that he was about to hear all the comments that Snape had bit back during the meeting.

Instead, all Snape said was, "I will bring the potion to you every day during the week before the full moon."

"Thank you, Severus for—"

Before he could finish, Snape had shot Dumbledore a significant look, then swept from the room.

He had no time to wonder about the meaning of Snape's look, for Dumbledore had risen from the table and said, "Well my boy, shall I show you to your office and quarters? I'm sure you'd like to get settled in before classes begin tomorrow."

"Yes, thank you headmaster."

The two set off together down the corridor outside the staff room. Remus couldn't believe the rollercoaster of emotions he'd experienced over the last couple of hours. Fear, resignation, determination and happiness. Sure he was worried about the days ahead. Would the staff keep his secret? What was Snape up to? Would he be a good teacher? Would he be able to pull off his deception?

The overwhelming support from most of the staff buoyed his spirits. He hadn't thought that most of them had suspected his lycanthropy and had kept silent. For the first time, he really believed that he could do what he'd come here to do.

Before he knew it they were stopping before a plane, unassuming door. Dumbledore reached out and turned the knob.

"Welcome home."

*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*HP*

Please leave a review!

Well folks, I'm extremely sorry for my long absence. I'd boar you with the details but I'm afraid they'd put you to sleep for several weeks and you'd miss the rest of the summer. Anyways I'm back writing and hopefully the next chapter won't take seventeen months to be written and posted.


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